I Love You, Even Though You're Not Real
by lovenyami
Summary: "I think I understand now. They were right. You aren't real. You never were. Not to them. Never in this world that I live in." Slight UsUk?


They were always trying to convince me that you weren't real, that you didn't really exist in this world with me. They told me that you were just a figment of my imagination. I didn't want to believe them. I fought with all my might against their lies. But repeating the same thing over and over time and again leads to doubt no matter how badly you want to believe it's true.

When I was little it was okay, they thought it was cute. "Aw, look! Little Al has an imaginary friend! How adorable!" They would coo at me, pinching my cheeks. But when I tried to tell them they were wrong and that you were real, all they would do was smile and laugh, shaking their head at me. I remember all the days we spent playing and talking with each other. That was when things were nice and simple and easy. I was carefree, didn't have to worry about what the others thought of me, whether they believed me or not that you were really there. Because I knew you were real and that was all that mattered at the time.

But then middle school started. Still considered young but at the same time older. They told me that it was time to let you go and forget about you. But how does one simply forget and let go of a best friend? I insisted that you were real, told them that I could never just forget about you. After all, you were the best friend I'd ever had. My only friend. They frowned at me but let it be for a while. In school the other kids would laugh and make jokes about it. I was the outcast of my grade for many years because of this. And when my teachers informed them of their concern they would just shake their head. "Don't worry about it, we're working on it."

Then came high school. It was a whole new ball game. So much was different compared to elementary and middle school. Before the first day, they sat me down to talk to me about you. They told me they were worried and that if I didn't stop talking with you they'd take you away by force. "He's not real, Alfred. If you don't stop this foolishness, then you leave us with no choice." I didn't want you to be taken away from me. I didn't want to lose you. So, I devised a plan. I wouldn't talk with you when they were around or at school any more. That was sure to fool them. When I told you, you laughed and smiled at me. But it wasn't your normal laugh or smile. It was different. Sad. And I felt bad.

High school was all just an act, a play that I had to put on all on my own. I had to act as if you weren't there anymore. Pretend that you were gone. Act as if you weren't right beside me making snide remarks about the teachers and students. You made it really hard for me by doing that, you know that right? After school we'd talk up in my room. You'd complain about how stupid the teachers were, how daft the other students could be, and how dull the school was. You'd help me study and prepare for tests, but you'd never help me cheat. You helped me to become top of my class.

They told me they were proud of me. Getting good grades, honor role, and stuff like that. But most of all they were happy that I had forgotten about you. And they started saying mean, cruel things about you. You were right there. And you heard every word they said. I tried not to say anything but the look on your face… I just couldn't let them say such things about you. I yelled at them, told them that you were right there and that it was not alright to say those kinds of things about you. They looked at each other, then at me. Displeased and unsettled.

The next thing I knew we were in the car, driving somewhere. They told me, "He's going to help you forget him." But I don't want to forget. I don't need help. I tell them this but they don't listen. They just keep driving. When we got to where ever it was they were taking me, I was taken into a small room. A man, Ivan was his name, started asking me questions about you.

"Male or female?" Male.

"What's his name?" Arthur.

"What does he look like?" Messy, blond hair. Emerald, green eyes. Bushy eyebrows. Soft, pale skin. A bit shorter than me.

"What is he like?" He's cynical, snide, sarcastic, and a bit rude at times. But he's also kind, funny, and really sweet and smart too. He likes to refer to himself as a gentleman. Oh, he's British, by the way.

"When did you first start talking to Arthur?" I don't know. It was a long time ago. He's been around for as long as I can remember.

"What do you usually talk to him about?" School stuff. He likes to talk about history, literature, magic, and mythical creatures. He knows a lot about that kind of stuff. He'll cheer me up when I had a bad day. He really likes to make fun of the teachers too.

"Can you physically touch Arthur?" Yeah.

"Can you touch him now?" No.

"Why not?" Because he's not in here.

"Where is he, then?" I don't know.

"Has Arthur ever tried to hurt you or make you hurt others?" No… Why would he do that?

He scribbled on his notepad, taking notes and recording my answers. I felt as if I had given away important secrets, secrets that shouldn't have been said out loud. He left the room to talk to them about something. I could see them through the window nodding in agreement on something. Ivan came back into the room, smiling at me.

"Alfred, I'm going to help you." Why? With what?

"Well, your parents think that perhaps it would be best if Arthur was out of the picture, yeah? You understand, don't you Alfred? They only want what's best for you."

I still don't understand what's so wrong with me talking to you. They act like you're planning on hurting me or something. But you wouldn't do that, I know you wouldn't. They started forcing me to take this strange medicine, it tasted nasty. They told me it was going to make me better. And as I took it you'd watch me with saddened eyes, almost like you're going to cry at any moment.

Time passes on, though, and I continue to take the medication.

But I'm starting to get scared. I hear less and less from you every day. When you are around it's almost like you're faded. What's wrong? What's happening? Everything about you used to be so clear and bright. I'm starting to forget things about you. Important things. Where are you from again? How old are you? I'm sorry, I don't know what's going on. I'm sorry, don't be mad. Please, don't be sad either, don't cry. Please.

I think I understand now. They were right. You aren't real. You never were. Not to them. Never in this world that I live in. Though, you're real to me. Their eyes are not strong enough to see you and your beauty.

There's something I want you to know before I forget everything.

I love you, even though you're not real.

There, I said it. Words I've been meaning to tell you… You… Don't get mad, but… What's your name?

Who are you…? Wait, don't leave. Answer my question first. Arthur, hm? Alright, then…

Goodbye, Arthur. I'll talk to you later.

* * *

**Soo... I did this thing... But I'm not sure if it's any good. Aaah...**

**Uhh, reasoning behind this thing... Well, I was on tumblr scrolling through britishspykirkland's blog. Under one of the pictures he had posted was the the caption "I want to hold you, treasure you, protect you and love you.. Even though you're not real..." Thus, this was born... And yeah. I liked the idea of "imaginary" Arthur. **


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